


A House Divided

by Frau_Eva



Category: Finishing School - Gail Carriger
Genre: And eventually fluffy domestic stuff hopefully?, F/M, Hopefully I'll get to that, I prefer knock down drag out filth, OMG I hate writing first times, So have VAST AMOUNTS OF SMUT, This will never happen in canon, domestic au sort of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frau_Eva/pseuds/Frau_Eva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix slowly begins to realize he's been caught, and Sophronia has been given a mission. Sacrifices are made and deals are struck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House Divided

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews/Comments especially appreciated! I have no idea how long this thing goes, so fair warning.

The wedding was everything someone would hope from a Goldborne wedding: ostentatious and tense. Given everything leading up to it, it was to be expected. Since the night Sophronia had suddenly consented to be “caught” in a compromising position with Felix, The Duke of Goldeborne and Mother Temmenick had been at each other's throats. It started off with his father accusing his bride-to-be of being a “deceitful strumpet” that was “undeserving” of his lineage. When it became apparent that Mother Temmenick was far too tenacious and angry to give up her daughter becoming a viscountess, he finally only relented on the condition that he pay for part of the wedding—being that her “country sensibilities and meager means would make it downright shameful.” While his father was the most abrasive, as always, he was thankful that Mother Temmenick's nature still made it hard to feel very guilty. Felix and Sophronia silently raised a brow at each other every time one of their parents said something biting. Thankfully they both knew and agreed that both of their relations were awful.  
  
As much as he worried about her safety around them, he did regret that no vampires or werewolves could attend. Denying his bride anything at her own wedding appalled him. But it couldn't be helped. Between the meddling and sniping of the two families, there wasn't much choice to be had anyway. Even though Sophronia and her masters clearly knew that going in, the fact goaded his conscious.  
  
There were only a few things he knew he'd remember—the moment he saw her walk down the aisle on her father's arm, her tremulant voice when she said “I do,” lifting the fine gauze veil to give the first kiss to his wife. But after a hasty retreat to a waiting carriage and to the Goldborne estate, the reception was a blur of toasts and handshakes from people he barely knew. The lovely bride was imperturbable and suitably gracious—a true woman of her training. Maid of honor Dimity stood ram-rod straight like a guard behind his wife through the endless parade of congratulations. Apparently he wasn't the only one concerned that the event might be the perfect opportunity for a coordinated attack.  
  
The first dance was the only part of the reception he actually enjoyed. Then he could actually hold her in his arms. Even if everyone was staring at them, he was allowed to only pay attention to her. Sophronia was resplendent—a dream of white lace and wispy brown hair. Her green eyes were subdued—had been since the day she demurely told him yes. Did she think he knew so little about her that he couldn't tell? What he loved about her was her fire, and since that day it had disappeared. He felt a tremor at the reminder of what he had to ask her.  
  
He channeled it into the dance, whirling her away artfully. He was good at it—too good, his father would grouse—but he relished that he could finally show off with her again. He led her expertly, fast enough that he actually heard her gasp. When she faced him again, he leaned down and whispered, “This time, Ria, my dear, I refuse to be cut.”  
  
She stared at him for a moment in surprise, then laughed. He couldn't remember the last time she laughed.  
  
It was over soon. It seemed more people had interests in Sophronia marrying him than not, so everything had gone off without a hitch. There were more dances, more pleasantries, and people trickled out as the cake was cut. Most people had left by the time Felix and Sophronia returned in their traveling outfits. Amid a shower of rice and satin slippers, Dingleproops and Dimity followed them into the carriage.  
  
The ride to the dirigible station was silent. There was too much to be said, for all parties. He put his hand over Sophronia's, in spite of Dimity's distressed expression. He needed the small intimacy too much to care. It had been a long day, and it was probably going to be an even longer night.  
  
The dirigible was waiting for them. Dingleproops, as his job as Best Man, handled the logistics of honeymoon luggage. After giving instructions to the porter, he had shot Felix a meaningful look. The groom hadn't told his friend much, but Dingleproops knew enough. Any Bunson man knew the danger.  
  
“It'll be fine,” Felix said, reassuring them both. He turned and walked towards the girls standing farther off on the platform, Dimity's frantic gesticulations suggesting the direction of their conversation. It seemed Sophronia had been convincing her friend as well.  
  
“We should be off soon, dear,” he said evenly. Dimity turned, looked between the two of them, and left without saying anything. It was one of the few times he'd seen Sophronia's friend at a loss for words.  
  
His bride smiled weakly. They gave a final wave before Felix took Sophronia by the hand and led her up the gangplank and through the corridors of the dirigible. They passed deck after deck before finally coming to a narrow corridor. Her eyes widened when he opened the door to their room. It would be average sized anywhere else but a dirigible—space being so precious. The huge bed was covered in damask and silk. In front of it was a pair of wardrobes, as well as overstuffed leather chairs in the corner and even a small mahogany bar. “This...isn't a regular room...” she muttered to herself.  
  
“You'd best get used to that, Mrs. Mersey,” he replied with a crooked smile. He knew she likely never would. “I would have wanted a private train car for old times' sake, but you deserve to see Europe.” He made his way to the bar and began taking out glasses. “Would you like some wine, darling? Something stronger, perhaps?”  
  
Her brows raised at anyone offering her something that strong. “No thank you...Felix,” she said as she cautiously sat down in a plump armchair.  
  
Felix poured himself a snifter of brandy. Damn, he wished she would drink something. It would make this whole thing a bit easier. He sighed and took too large of a swig. “We need to have a conversation, Ria.”  
  
She looked up at him with those wide green eyes of hers. Her mouth opened slightly. Somehow in that moment she seemed so guileless. Though she was now in a plain brown traveling dress, he couldn't help remembering the vision of her all in white.  
  
He took a breath.“I know why you married me,”he said darkly, covering his mouth with the glass by taking another gulp of alcohol.  
  
She paused for a moment. “What are you talking about? If it's about the dukedom—”  
  
“For once in my life, it isn't. You know what I'm talking about, Ria.” He paused when the dirigible gave off an ear-splitting whistle, warning its immediate departure. “You received an assignment.”  
  
She looked away from him. Her hands clenched in her lap. “I don't know what you're talking about, Felix. I'm shocked you could accuse me of such a thing...”  
  
He slammed the glass down on the counter. “Dammit, Ria! Do you think I know so little about you?”  
  
She gazed up at him in shock. “Felix, please, language...”  
  
He clenched his fists and walked towards her. “Sophronia Temmenick, suddenly so biddable! One day, no different than any other time we've met, and you suddenly acquiesce. And every single day since, you've been as docile as a lamb. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Do you think I know nothing about you, Ria?”  
  
The smallest hint of a snarl curled at her lips. Finally, there she was. “If you really think I received an assignment, then why on Earth would you go through with it?”she whispered. She still didn't look at him.  
  
He chuckled. “If I said I was too excited to think, would that make me romantic or an idiot?” he mused. That finally made her look up at him, her face open and genuine. “All I could think of was to find a place where we'd be discovered, just not too soon. You remember. Us running through the gardens?” he said wistfully. “And then it was all over, in the matter of an hour. It was only after we'd been found out—and all the yelling—that anything occurred to me.” He dropped to a knee in front of her. “My father's a prig, but he was right about one thing: you tricked me and I'm a bloody imbecile for falling for it.” His voice was oddly affectionate.  
  
Sophronia was stiff, doing nothing but staring back at him with apprehension. He slowly, methodically, began taking off his own gloves and then her own. She was too bewildered to protest. He grasped her hand tightly in his. Time stopped as the dirigible bucked to life. He gazed up at her with half-lidded eyes. “I know you've been given an assignment. And I want to help you.”  
  
“What?!” Sophronia yelled. “Felix, what are you...you don't know what you're talking about!”  
  
“Ria, I've thought about this every day since,” he whispered darkly, eyes narrowed.“My father is one of—if not the—most powerful of the Pickleman. Though I wouldn't be surprised if you had orders to kill me as well, I'm nothing in comparison to that prize.”  
  
He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. Sophronia squirmed in her seat before finally admitting in defeat, “It...was discussed.”  
  
His heart skipped a beat. “And?”  
  
“It was tabled for later discussion.” She gulped as if her throat ran dry. “Until more information can be gathered.”  
  
Felix's grin was wolfish. His shoulders fell with relief.“So it has not been decided.” He raised her hand to his lips and slowly kissed it. The sudden intensity in his pale blue eyes made her shudder. “Let me help you, Ria,” he whispered.  
  
“But how...why would you do that?” She shook her head, as if trying to quell her racing thoughts.  
  
His lips fell. Something in his gaze grew cold. “Even if you hadn't been assigned to kill him, the only way we'd be free would be if he were taken care of. Do you want to live the rest of your life according to what's best for the Mersey name? I can tell you, I do not.”  
  
“Felix, it's not just that, it's...he's your father...” Sophronia looked down at her lap.  
  
“Do you think of me as a monster now?”he said with the quirk of a brow.  
  
“No, no, I'm just...surprised at this.”  
  
“Perhaps I deserve to be thought of that way, I admit.” He gently put her hand down and rose to his feet, stepping back towards the bar. “He did everything that would be expected of him. Paid for my education, inquired after my health now and then. Nothing more, but he did it.”  
  
Sophronia slowly turned to look directly at him. She opened and closed her mouth slowly, deciding. Say it, Ria. “No one ever mentions...if you don't mind me asking...” Do it, Ria. No one who knew the Mersey family dared address it.“...but what happened to your mother?”  
  
Felix grinned widely, took a deep breath, and another sip of brandy. “Died when I was seven, while I was on leave from boarding school. Father swore it was the consumption, but I saw what the maids were hauling back and forth out of her room. I sat outside of her rooms for hours; she barely coughed. It was cholera, but Father forbid me from telling anyone. Cholera's a 'poor man's disease.' For people to think we were filthy enough to come down with a case of it...” His eyes were distant. He took another swig of brandy. “But you're a part of the family now, Mrs. Mersey, so I suppose it is your secret to keep as well.”  
  
Sophronia said nothing. He knew what she had to be thinking. She had been allowed briefly in the Mersey estate since their engagement. It had an absolute minimum of human servants—performing only the duties which could not be done by mechanicals. The whole estate was constantly abuzz with the whirrs and clicks of busy machines. Despite the movement and the opulence, the estate was as cloyingly lifeless as a tomb.  
  
“I'm an extension of his will, of the name, a fulfillment of duty. I'm done pretending that he can see me as anything else.” He turned to look back at her, his ice-blue eyes wild with some savage emotion. “So I am done seeing him as anything but what he is—a tyrant who stands in my way.”  
  
He sat down in the chair next to her, hands grazing her face and her shoulders and her neck. Sophronia was transfixed. With what: fear, curiosity, simple shock? “Maybe I found myself in this situation because I'm an impulsive idiot, but being caught made me accept what I long denied. I have considered my own mortality, Sophronia, and I realize that I always had one choice before me.” Their eyes met. God, her eyes. “You may think I'm a monster. And perhaps you're right. But if you stay your hand for but a moment against my father,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “then I'll pick up your weapon and kill him myself.”  
  
“Felix...” For once in his life, he was the one catching her by surprise. Slowly, timidly, she placed her hand over his. “I...I don't know what to say, I...can't make any promises of what they'll tell me...”  
  
“Of course not, my dove,” he murmured, “I know you have to report, and they have to consider. But I couldn't have this night pass with that between us.” His lashes lowered. He raised her hand to his lips. “Sophronia...” he breathed.  
  
As much as she used to attest that she hated her nickname, him using her full name was quickly becoming much worse. She was coming to know that it meant something serious. Her shoulders tensed in response.  
  
“I know you have your orders. I understand. But...it wasn't all dishonest, was it?” He had her hand pressed to his cheek, blue eyes blazing. “I don't expect you to love me. But please tell me the truth...do you bear me at least some sort of affection?”  
  
She trembled. At first he worried she wasn't going to answer. Finally her voice cracked as she spoke, “Why else do you think I've been so somber, you idiot? The idea that I might have to kill you...that I'd have to smile and plot your death...”  
  
He rose and took her face in his hands and kissed her. Even that night in the garden, she'd never responded with such passion as she did now. She deepened the kiss immediately, sliding her tongue against his. His blood rose in response. Felix had never seen her act so forward.  
  
He reluctantly took his lips away from her, only to pepper more kisses across her cheek. “It's good to have you back, Ria, my dear. I have missed you so,” he murmured in her ear.  
  
She clutched the back of his coat with a force he didn't know she had. Her eyes shimmered with tears held at bay. His poor Ria—ever-so calm and purposeful—to be so moved. Nothing elated him more than the possibility that he may have earned her confidence. His whole life had been populated by no one to confess to but mechanicals and status seekers. Her surprising sincerity was just as irresistible as her steely cunning.  
  
He brushed his hands over her cheeks and kissed the edges of each eye. “God help me, I love you, Ria. And I will move heaven and earth to someday earn the same.”  
  
Sophronia's mouth moved to stammer out something, but he didn't need any half-hearted reassurances. Felix didn't need to know—all that mattered is that he'd achieve it someday. He covered her lips with his. She sank into him. He reached back and began unfastening the buttons on her dress as deftly as a lady's maid. She shuddered. His hands were in her hair, removing her bonnet and finally drawing his fingers through those long brown tresses.  
  
He drew away quickly—reluctantly—to tear off his coat. His breath was ragged. To his surprise, a blushing Sophronia started to unbutton the clasps of his waistcoat. Her coiffure was undone and hung tauntingly over her neck. Schoolboys whispered about the audaciousness and hidden talents of the Madame Geraldine graduates with awed desire—the ultimate forbidden fruit. In that moment, he was the luckiest man in the world.  
  
He attacked her neck with lips and teeth and tongue, leaving a trail down to her collarbone. She whimpered in his arms. He shoved the dress down over her waist and knees, exposing her camisole and her heaving decolletage. Slowly, achingly, he kissed the top of each breast. He had dreamed of doing that ever since the day she gave him the first taste of her power—half-lidded eyes full of desire and rainwater trickling down her corset.  
  
They worked together to slip off her camisole and petticoats. He stepped away for a moment and regarded her, clothed only in her corset, stockings, and knickers. Her flesh was petal-pink—she always said she blotched horribly, but the sight drove him wild. Her stockings bit into the supple flesh of her thighs. Felix somehow managed to catch his breath, slipped his arms beneath her, and sweep her up.  
  
Her gasp turned into a giggle. “How dashing,” she said, grinning. Her arms clasped around his shoulders. Despite her usual nonchalance, there was a twinge of nervousness in her eyes that could not be hidden. He could never tell until they spent time together during the engagement. There was the slightest hesitation in her easy smile.  
  
“Well, it won't be until we return that I can carry you over the threshold,” he said with a grin, voice thickening with need, “and I am not a patient man.” He carried her over to the bed, relishing the feel of her weight in his arms. He lay her down gently against the plush damask comforter. His hand slipped over her stockinged legs, lifting one up to slowly untie the laces of her boots. He didn't take his half-lidded eyes away from hers. His gaze was almost too intense; Felix never looked away from her as he lovingly slipped off each boot, cupped her heel in his hands, and languidly rolled each stocking down her leg. Now and then he's stop to kiss an ankle or stroke her thigh. Sophronia bit her lip and rolled her face against the bed.  
  
His hot mouth was on hers again and she was clawing at him—pulling at his hair and tearing at his collar. He shivered and bucked against her unconsciously. Felix pulled away to tear off more clothing—shoes, socks, cravat, shirt—and quickly lifted Sophronia's torso so he could loosen the laces of her corset. His head was pressed against her chest as he worked, lips and hot breath skimming the surface of her skin.  
  
His breath caught when he realized she had slipped her hand downward and was beginning to unbutton his pants. Her hand was just under his open waistband when he was finally done, rising up to rip open the front of her corset. She gasped and he threw the garment from the bed. Now frenzied, he whipped her chemise and knickers off and dove at her naked body. His mouth was on her pink-tipped breasts, licking, sucking, biting. She whimpered. Now and then he stopped to just look at her through his dark lashes, hands cupping her and thumbs gliding over her nipples. Sophronia's nails left red marks on his back.  
  
Felix's hands slid slowly over her. He had waited too long to not lovingly explore every inch of her body. His mouth marked a path of wet kisses down over her breasts and stomach. His hand was at the small of her back, arching her into him. He clutched at her thick thighs and drew lines down her spine.  
  
Finally his fingers slipped down to the junction of her thighs. Sophronia's eyes clamped closed. Her chest heaved as she uttered a strangled gasp. At this, he fixed his eyes on her face, drinking her in. Felix's fingers circled the nub at the the top of her cleft. Sophronia buried her face against his chest.  
  
Slowly, gently, he slipped a finger into her. The new sensation sent Sophronia's eyes fluttering open. He slid back and forth, coating his hand in her wetness, before he crooked his finger inside her. She shuddered and thrashed against the sheets. His thumb continued to stroke the sensitive nub at the top of her folds. When he was sure she was relaxed, he slid another finger inside her. She tensed briefly before the discomfort was washed away.  
  
He quickened the pace, his blue eyes glazed over at the sight of her writhing. Her eyes fluttered closed again. Now and then he scissored his fingers open just a bit more. Small whimpers escaped from her sealed lips. The only sound was their breathing and the slick sounds of his frantic pace.  
  
Suddenly she stiffened and cried out, clutching at him. Felix's burning ice-blue eyes watched waves of pleasure wash over her. Her kiss-swollen lips were open wide, eyes screwed shut over pink cheeks. She quaked uncontrollably against him. The ever-disciplined and controlled Sophronia was completely undone. It was the most gorgeously carnal thing he's ever seen.  
  
Finally she slipped back down against the bed, limbs loose. He kissed away the sweat from her forehead.  
  
“Ria,” he murmured. He swept her long brown hair from her face, then shifted his weight to lay on top of her. Even with Felix's slight frame, the feeling of broad shoulders pinning her to the bed satisfied something old and animal in her.  
He kissed her before lifting himself up on one side and lowering his hand. “You have to tell me, Ria,” he breathed, looking down at her. “If it hurts, I'll slow down, or...whatever you need.” The sight of her splayed out beneath him made his throat run dry. Slowly, carefully, he slid himself inside her.  
  
He arched his back against her despite himself. A shuddering gasp passed his lips. He was nearly lost in feeling, in need of her. She was warm and soft as velvet.“Ria,” he managed, “Ria, please tell me.”  
  
Her face was tense. “It's...tight, sort of burns. Just...go slowly, Felix.” He saw that same expression of control slip back onto her face. She wrapped her arms around his torso.  
  
He gulped and gently sank all the way inside her. Felix paused and buried his face against her neck. Her arms tensed, softened, and then finally began stroking the planes of his back with her fingertips.  
  
His hips slowly began to roll against hers. Sophronia gave a sharp inhale of breath, then relaxed as each stroke replaced the burning tightness with building pleasure. Felix kissed and nipped at her neck now and then, whispering endearments. His eyes were glassy with desire.  
  
He could feel every inch of her. After wanting her for so long, he couldn't help but worry that he wouldn't last long enough. The sight of her naked, vulnerable and wild, was enough by itself. All his murmured compliments feel like the pale mutterings of a naive boy to his own ears. But he had heard of boorish men whose wives shrunk away from their coarse affections. He was tormented by the possibility of giving Ria any reason to shy away from him.  
  
He struggled to regain control and quickened the pace of his thrusts. Sophronia stammered out a cry. Her hands suddenly dropped to his lower back and began pushing him against her to the rhythm. Felix gasped, closed his eyes, and drove himself harder. She threw her head back and wailed, bucking her hips against him. Every little ridge and muscle inside of her clutched him. Their bodies were stuck together with sweat. The sound of her voice rose over his panting and the slick sound of flesh against flesh. A few moments more and he felt it. Felix's muscles tensed and a trail of fire lit from his shaft all the way up. He moaned and shivered against her. Blood surged in his veins.  
  
He fell apart on top of her. The next few minutes passed with just the rise and fall of their chests and the sound of their breath. Finally he nuzzled her neck and asked, “Are you well, Ria?”  
  
“Mmmm, quite,” she murmured before throwing her arm around his neck. The two lazily rolled to their side and drifted to a blissful sleep, with the inky London night out their porthole window.


End file.
